


Yet Another Year

by Lauren_Biru



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Dark Artifices Series - Cassandra Clare, The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: (of course), Angst, Grief/Mourning, Like their dads, M/M, Magnus is immortal, Pancakes (of course), The Lightwood-Bane kids are adorable, alec is not, and fluff, angst ensues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:20:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23623015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lauren_Biru/pseuds/Lauren_Biru
Summary: Magnus reflects on life, love, and pancakes.
Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Comments: 17
Kudos: 49





	Yet Another Year

Magnus stretched his limbs out on the bed, turning his face away from the sunlight filtering in through the large window. His hand reached across the bed and found coldness, the space beside him long empty. He sighed, sitting up with some reluctance. As much as the idea seemed appealing, Magnus knew the day was not to be spent in bed, or even inside; it was a special day, and it was definitely time to get out of bed. Magnus got up and made his way to the closet, pulling on a dark blue robe over his silk pajama pants. He ambled out to the kitchen, but not before stopping outside his son’s room, a sappy smile on his face.

Even after all these years, Rafael’s snoring still proved endearing. His son was fast asleep, and Magnus decided to let him stay that way. He continued on to the kitchen, gathering the necessary ingredients for pancakes. It would only take him a second to conjure up some pancakes, a fluffy and freshly made breakfast with only a snap of his fingers, but Magnus wanted to do this properly. He’d always teased Alec about his incessant need to do things with his hands, especially when Magnus could accomplish the same feats with a flick of the wrist. His husband’s need to do something,  _ anything _ , to provide for his family had just been too great, always surpassing mere rationality. Magnus chuckled to himself at the irony.  _ Ah, how things have changed. _

Shaking himself out of his reverie, the warlock continued his culinary exploit. The act of making pancakes, while unnecessary for him, was still second nature. Magnus had made breakfast with Alec enough times — mixing ingredients and “accidentally” getting batter on the Shadowhunter’s nose — that his hands moved almost of their own accord. So while his hands worked, his mind wandered.

***

_ “Max, stop running!” Alec called, looking exasperatedly at his son — who was, indeed, running around the kitchen.  _

_ “Listen to your daddy and do sit down, Blueberry. It’s his birthday, and breakfast is almost ready,” Magnus chimed in. Max considered for a moment before racing to the table, climbing into his chair with an eager grin. Alec turned to look at Magnus, a grateful glint in his eye, which the warlock took as the perfect opportunity to plop a gob of batter on his husband’s nose.  _

_ “Magnus!” Alec cried, reaching up to wipe off the batter and swat his husband at the same time. _

_ “My my, Alexander,” Magnus tutted, “your Shadowhunter reflexes fail you again.”  _

_ “I’ll show you some reflexes,” Alec grunted, landing a large dollop of batter on Magnus’s cheek. Magnus grabbed a towel off the counter, first swatting Alec’s shoulder with it before wiping off his face. The warlock turned back around to face his husband, his eyes defiant and sparkling. _

_ “How do I look? Did I get it off?” _

_ “You look gorgeous,” Alec smirked, “but you missed a spot.” _

_ “Oh?” Magnus raised an eyebrow. "Did I, darling?” _

_ Alec just stepped forward, lightly kissing his husband on the cheek. “Right there,” he replied cheekily. Magnus hummed in approval. “Anywhere else, my love?” _

_ Alec’s eyes reached Magnus’s lips, and he leaned forward. _

_ “Eww!” Rafael cried, emerging from his room. His eyes were still half-lidded from sleep, but his face had scrunched up in disgust. “Kissing is gross.”  _

_ Max nodded in agreement, showing his solidarity with his brother. _

_ Alec just smirked, pulling Magnus closer and leaving a warm kiss on the warlock’s lips. The boys chorused in protest. _

_ “Alright, alright,” Magnus sighed, his eyes sparkling with mirth, “but settle down or we’ll do it again.” _

_ “No!” Max wailed. _

_ “Papa, no!” _

_ *** _

“Papa.”

Magnus started, nearly dropping the ladle in his surprise. The pancakes were already on the griddle, a few seconds away from being burnt. He grabbed the spatula, quickly flipping them over. 

“Good morning, Raf! Stay right there, I’m coming to help.” 

Rafael rolled his eyes in return. “I may be old, but I’m not senile,” he grumbled, but he stayed put nevertheless.

Magnus rushed over, placing a supporting hand on his son’s back and guiding the Shadowhunter over to the table. Magnus scoffed. “If you’re old, what does that make me?” 

Rafael smiled. “Ancient.”

The warlock rolled his eyes, pulling out his son’s chair. Rafael’s hair had gone gray long ago and time had weathered his skin, leaving behind its marks of age, but his dark eyes still shone brightly. Rafael’s wife had died a couple years ago, which is when he had decided to move back in with Magnus. His kids still visited often, even though they had grown up to have beautiful families of their own. Magnus enjoyed the company, immensely glad to have his son back home.

The warlock hurried back over to the pan once Rafael had been seated, setting each pancake down on separate plates. They were a little burnt — but still edible. Father and son ate in comfortable silence. Rafael’s hands shook slightly as he raised his fork, a side effect of old age. Magnus’s hands, however, remained steady, as they always would.

Once they’d both finished, and Magnus had deposited both plates in the sink, the warlock helped Rafael to his room. Magnus took out his son’s meticulously folded clothes and placed them on the bed, so they were within Rafael’s reach. Then, he made his way to his own room. He grabbed a tight navy shirt and black coat out of his closet, taking the time to rub the coat’s course material between two fingers. Magnus threw on the shirt and draped his coat over his shoulders, broad despite his slender frame, and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. His face was unlined, for it was the face of a young man just beginning the journey of life, a young man not yet beaten down by the world’s cruelties. But it was his eyes, gold and green and slitted, that exposed the real toll time had taken. 

***

_ Magnus took a long look at himself in the mirror, adjusting his coat around his slender frame. The long coat was lined with red and his black pants fit nicely into his tall boots, which were embellished with bright silver buckles. _

_ “How do I look, Alexander?” Magnus turned with a flourish toward his husband, who was currently sitting criss-cross on their bed. Alec was, of course, wearing all black, but he still managed to be the most beautiful thing Magnus had ever seen. Crow’s feet now adorned the Shadowhunter’s face, a physical reminder of all the smiles, all the laughter.  _

_ Alec smiled, lighting up the room with his unfettered happiness. “You look gorgeous,” he said. “I don’t know how I got so lucky.” _

_ Magnus’s heart suddenly felt too big for his chest, and he wondered if his husband would ever stop taking his breath away. “No, Alexander,” he said. “I am the lucky one.” _

_ Alec swung his legs over the bed, going over to stand near his husband. “Are you ready for date night?” he asked. Both of their schedules were free, and they’d booked a reservation at a nice restaurant. It had been a while since their last date night, as their jobs and two teenage boys certainly kept them busy. They were planning on leaving the boys at home, and while this wasn’t their first time leaving Max and Raf alone, Magnus still felt nervous. Nevertheless, he smiled. “Of course I’m ready, darling.” _

_ Alec studied Magnus for a moment, looking deep in thought. “I want to stay home,” the Shadowhunter blurted suddenly, as if he wanted to get the words out as fast as possible.  _

_ Magnus’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “But it’s your birthday,” he pointed out, “and we’ve been planning this night for a while.” _

_ Alec sighed. “I know, but I really just want to stay in with the kids tonight.”  _

_ Magnus smiled in understanding. “I think that sounds great. I don’t want to leave them either.” _

_ Alec smiled and drew Magnus closer to him. Their lips met, and the kiss was slow and deliberate and perfect. Magnus’s hand slipped up Alec’s shirt, feeling hard muscle and tracing each scar with gentle fingers. He could afford to go slow; after all, they had all night to- _

_ “Papa! Dad!” Max’s voice cut through their blissful haze. Magnus leaned back and Alec followed the movement, chasing after his lips.  _

_ The warlock chuckled. “I guess this will have to wait until  _ after  _ movie night.” _

_ Alec pouted adorably. “You’d better make it up to me then. It  _ is  _ my birthday.” _

_ “Oh, don’t worry,” Magnus replied teasingly, “you won’t be disappointed.” He leaned forward, and Alec’s lips parted under his. Magnus pulled away again, and Alec resumed his pout. _

_ “We’re coming, boys!” the warlock called, turning away with a wink. Alec rolled his eyes fondly but followed his husband out the bedroom door. _

_ *** _

“Are you coming?” 

Magnus stepped back and wrapped his coat tighter around himself. “I’ll be right there, Raf!” he called, hurrying out of the bedroom and turning off the light with a flick of his wrist.

Magnus made a portal, and father and son stepped out into the cool Idris air. The sky — untouched by pollution — was startlingly blue, and snow-dusted mountains reached for the heavens. Magnus took his son’s hand, and the two started on a path they knew well.

In no time at all, Idris’s cemetery loomed up before them. White mausoleums stood out starkly against the green, well-kept grass and clear sky. A family name adorned each gate, serving as a symbol of pride for the fallen. Rafael and Magnus slowly approached the Lightwood mausoleum, and Magnus opened the gate after only a moment’s hesitation.

_ Alexander Gideon Lightwood-Bane _

His husband’s name stood out like a lighthouse in a storm, calling Magnus home. The warlock flicked his wrist, summoning two white orchids. He then deposited them both into the sconce.

Alec had lived a good life: full of laughter and full of love. 

***

_ “Good morning, my love,” Magnus crooned, climbing back into bed with a tray full of Alec’s favorite breakfast items. “Happy Birthday.” _

_ Alec sat up, giving his husband a grateful smile. His skin was thin with age, pulled tight over his bones, and his hair was gray as smog; but his eyes had never lost their hue, shining as bright as sapphires in the dim room. Those eyes still managed to steal Magnus’s breath right out of his lungs. _

_ “Thank you,” he said, then hesitated. “Magnus,” he blurted, his eyes never leaving his husband. “I never thought I would get any of this. I never thought I’d find  _ real  _ love, never thought I’d have a family. I didn’t even think I’d live past 18. At least for a while...” Alec smiled softly. “I had condemned myself to a life of lies — not knowing how beautiful the truth could be. You saved my life.” _

_ Magnus felt a tear slip down his cheek. “Oh, Alexander. It was you who saved mine.” He wiped his cheek. “I did not know I’d given up on love until you barged into my life and upended it completely. I did not know true love until you showed me. I am forever, irrevocably changed by you, and I would not have it any other way.” _

_ Alec lifted his hand to Magnus’s cheek, feeling the fresh tears beneath his long fingers. “I miss the kids. I miss hearing their footsteps as they ran through the house,” he said. _

_ “Me too,” Magnus said, “but all wounds fade with time. Even wounds of the heart.” _

_ “I know that, my love.” Alec smiled sadly. “Do you?” _

***

Footsteps echoed loudly in the silent chamber as a man stepped inside. The man was young and tall, seemingly no older than 20. It was his skin, however, that set him apart — after all, he was blue.

Rafael turned to his brother. “Hey Max.”

“You came,” Magnus said, smiling.

“Of course I came,” Max said, “I couldn’t miss the big day.” He then leaned down, putting a third flower in his father’s sconce.

Magnus looked at his two sons and felt nothing but pride. They were amazing and smart and, most importantly, they were happy — and Magnus knew. He knew that for all of the heartbreak and all of the pain that came from losing Alec, he wouldn’t have done a single thing differently. 

“Aku cinta kamu,” Magnus whispered. He leaned down to trace his husband’s name once more, memorizing the grooves beneath his fingertips.

“Happy Birthday, Alexander.”

**  
  
  
  
**

__

****  
  



End file.
